


Ricochet

by pradatrash



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Modern AU, other overwatch characters are here too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-06-24 07:59:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15626283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pradatrash/pseuds/pradatrash
Summary: "I exist in two places, here and where you are."They fell in love during a world crisis; Angela Ziegler was fresh out of medical school and on a whim took the position as a field medic. Amelie Lacroix was considerably the best sniper in the world and a top Overwatch agent. Over time, Angela would soon come to realize that the real war was that of constantly trying to bring Amelie back to her.





	1. Come Back to Earth

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! I'm super excited because this is my first Mercymaker fic and I really hope you like it so I can continue! 
> 
> This is a Human/Modern AU just to preface! The story will jump between past and present, each section that's in the past will begin italicized, hopefully it's not too confusing. This is rated M for violence, sex, etc. 
> 
> This couple means a lot to me so thank you as always for coming along for the ride xx

A lifelong love story about what it’s like to never leave the person that’s always leaving you.

* * *

 

“Pick up…please pick up.”

_“Hi! You’ve reached the voicemail of Dr. Angela Z—“_

“Fuck.”

Amelie drops the phone from her ear, almost having the nerve to throw it against the wall across from her. She shuffles through her coat pocket once more just in case she had somehow ghosted over the set of keys she was missing in this very moment.

She slings her camouflage backpack over her arm, the leather straps digging into the already sore slope of her shoulders. A low huff leaves her lips as she stands under the apartment doorway out of the falling rain.

The soft sound of cars passing by is the only sound that fills the otherwise empty residential street. It was a very high contrast compared to the haptics of bullets, explosions and shouts that had captured Amelie’s ears up until now—the silence was almost more unnerving.

Instead of overloading Angela’s voicemail (again) she forced her tired legs towards the small 24-hour corner store where the doctor occasionally left a spare key.

The bright lights of the convenience store make Amelie have to blink a few times to adjust to her surroundings as she pushes open the door, the distant sound of a bell going off.

“Well, well, look who it is!”

The gruff yet warm voice of the store’s owner and cashier, Hammond, greet her and she lets a small smile curl at her face at the familiar voice. Nothing had been familiar to her in so long.

The round old man has a wide grin on his face as she comes into view. His orange hair has definitely greyed since the last time she saw him, had it really been that long?

“Oui. It is me.” The sound of her French tone has grown weak overtime and without her exercising the language much anymore, the fact saddens her slightly.

“How long has it been this time?”

Amelie swallows a lump in her throat and instinctively reaches for the Reese’s peanut butter cups by the register. When she answers her voice is barely above a whisper,

“Two years.”

“Two years?!” The old man tries to hide his surprised expression but it is not lost on the frenchwoman. Her military training early on had taught her the key to knowing the enemy was reading them.

She bites her lip out of habit and averts her gaze to look around the store. Nothing had really changed physically about it. The beer still lined the far wall and the produce and cereal were still in the same place.

“I…I thought after your last gig you were going to be done? I thought you and Angela had settled permanently up the street?”

Amelie finally lifts back the hood of her raincoat and lets Hammond regard her fully. Her black hair is pulled in her signature ponytail, her shoulders are a little broader than the last time he saw her, and her face has the complete air of sadness.

The reaction from mentioning Angela’s name makes him realize a sad truth he had hoped was false.

He had noticed a change, Angela had started frequenting the shop less and less in the past year. He figured her new job at the research center had left her with no time but he put two and two together.

After running into her randomly at one of the neighborhood’s street fairs he had noticed she hadn’t been wearing the giant diamond engagement ring he had first met her with a long time ago when he and his wife had befriended the new couple.

“I thought so too.” Amelie’s delayed answer shakes him from his realization and all he can do is nod.

She just couldn’t explain it. When she first met Hammond they had bonded early on over their shared war experiences but the older veteran had been long out of the field for some time.

How could she explain it was in her DNA? She was drawn to the adrenaline of the field, the high she got from battle was something no other feeling could replace, no matter how hard she had tried to forget it.

A long silence passes over the two, Hammond doesn’t make a move to press the woman for answers but damn is he curious. She nods to the door reluctantly, scared she’s going to receive the answer she kind of already knew.

“Did…did she leave a key?”

Hammond sets his mouth in a sad line and shakes his head.

“She hasn’t left one here in a long time.”

The pain from his sentence hits her in the chest like a bullet but she just silently reaches into her pocket for some cash to pay for the Reese’s but Hammond stops her with a wave of his hand.

“Don’t worry about it, this one’s on me.”

Instead of protesting like she normally would during her late night snack runs she just gives him a grateful look, the edges attempting to turn up into a “convincing” smile. She pockets the candy and leaves the store silently back into the rain.

 

 —

 

  _“There’s a reason you are the few chosen to serve as medics for the Overwatch division, this isn’t your fucking medical school classroom! Keep your head down at landing and listen to the commanders in your squadron! You mouth off and you’re on the next flight home, you disobey a direct order and you’re on the next flight home, understood?”_

A chorus of “yes sir!” echoes throughout the carrier plane towards the lieutenant at the front, or at least what people can make out of his figure in the dark. 

There’s nothing to be seen in the darkness but a glowing red strip running up and down the left and right side of the cabin floor.

The young blonde is strapped in tight to her seat, her stomach doing backflips at every little jostle and bump the plane makes. She had never been a good flyer.

Angela fidgets nervously with her hair, running her fingers up and down the long blonde braid as if it were serving as a mantra to soothe her. The plane jostled slightly, sounds of explosives and shouting are far off in the distance and it doesn’t help the rapid beating of her heart.

It had been a curve ball for basically… well, everyone, when she had decided to take the field medic position in Sudan. She had gotten offers from Harvard, Yale, Mass General and many other top medical clinics but she had turned them all down. For this.

To be a fucking war medic. This was all too cliché compared to the novels she was obsessed with about war nurses and everything in that genre.

She had graduated from medical school not even two months ago, top of her class and considered a genius amongst her peers, no doubt she was off to do great things, but no one had expected this.

In the reality of it all she wanted to help people—that’s the reason she pursued medical school, the reason she needed to prove herself to every doubtful person in her life.

Mainly her father. His doubtful attitude her entire time in medical school had only spurred her to do the best she could. And she damn well did.

“Prepare for landing!” A loud voice boomed over the scratchy intercom.

_This is it. No turning back now._

As the plane comes into its descent into the war zone the sounds of explosives and vehicles climb their way closer. A small bump indicates the plane has docked, the lights suddenly flash oand everyone takes a moment to adjust, small groans ringing throughout the cabin.

Angela rolls her sore neck, she can’t remember how long the flight was exactly but somewhere between eleven and fourteen hours seemed about right.

“Loosen the straps on your seat next time, they won’t dig into your neck as much during the flight.”

She blinks at the voice next to her, finally being able to see the person sitting next to her clearly. The older woman has platinum almost shining grey hair tied in a braid similar to Angela’s one at the moment. The cabin lights aren’t too bright but Angela can make out a black eye cover on the other woman.

“Is it that obvious this is my first time?”

The older woman chuckles to herself as they both unbuckle their seat straps and stand to stretch their muscles.

“When you’ve been on war planes as long as I have the greenies stand out like sore thumbs.”

She regards Angela slowly and stops herself from shaking her head. _What’s a young girl like her doing here?_

“How…how long have you been in the field?”

The grey haired woman thinks to herself, flexing her glove covered hands as a small smirk climbs up her face.

“Lost count. Somewhere around twenty years. I’ve been out a couple months because of this small knick…”

She gestures to the patch over her eye with a shrug of her shoulders.

Angela has to physically clench her jaw to prevent it from falling open. Twenty years?! Her lack of response makes the tall woman chuckle again and then it dawns on Angela like a ton of bricks falling on top of her blonde head.

“Oh my god, you’re Ana Amari…the founder of the Overwatch research division. W-Without you none of us would even have the opportunity to come out here.”

“Someone’s read the welcome packet.” Ana smirks and steps into the aisle as the doors at the front open and lead down into the landing pad.

“I train the new medics, I’ll see you out there rookie. Try not to get yourself killed, I like you. Oh also, good to have you here Ziegler.”

Before she can answer Ana is already weaving her way gracefully down the aisle as other trainees step aside to let her go. Angela follows her until she’s out of sight, releasing a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding.

This was going to be interesting.

 

— 

 

_ The first two weeks of easing into training that Angela had expected were pulled out from under her like a damn rug. _

Within the first few days of the new recruits arrival it was evident that there would be no time for training as the new medics were needed at the base and some deployed to help the soldiers in the field immediately.

Angela hadn’t even gotten fully set up in her bunk when she was notified she would be joining the deployment out to the riverbank camp at sunrise the next day.

There was also no time to adjust to actually being in a _war_ because she minute she landed she was at work tending to the wounded. The days weren’t long enough and the more wounded that came in it began to dawn on Angela how serious the world she just stepped into was.

“Ziegler, we need you in the C wing stat! We have operatives that are returning and need tending to.”

Angela looks up from where she’s loading a few syringes into a case, nodding her affirmation to the commander as she bites her lip.

She hadn’t met any of the Overwatch agents since she got here—seen them in passing yes, but actually had a conversation or even being acknowledged was unheard of.

They had separate lives, separate _glamorous_ lives. Angela had always wondered what it would be like to be the best internationally at anything. When the world needed them most Overwatch answered.

The tent flaps are pushed aside when Angela enters wing C just in time to see a few people exiting a transport plane.

Her eyes move just in time to catch _her_. Suddenly the room seems smaller, time moves slowly and the only other person she can see is the woman walking off the plane with such grace. Her signature raven black hair is tied in a high ponytail, her helmet is slung around one hand, the other making small hand gestures to the person she’s speaking to.

_She’s even more gorgeous in person._

All of the oxygen has left the room to Angela’s knowledge and she can’t bring her eyes to tear away from the frenchwoman. She knew of her, of course, who didn’t? Amelie Lacroix,  _the_ Widowmaker. One of Overwatch’s best operatives.

The grip she has on her medical case almost slips before Dr. Amari’s voice orders her to move.

“Ziegler right here.”

A harsh blush crawls up her cheeks at how long she had been staring at the agent and she hopes it has gone unnoticed but the look on Dr. Amari’s face says otherwise.

The older doctor directs her to a station just as two soldiers are assisting a young woman to the table. She looks no older than 19 and in immense pain.

Angela begins to boost up her tablet, shaking her head to rid it of any residual thoughts about the sniper. “Hana Song…agent name D.Va.”

As Hana is heloped onto the table for examination Angela sees her trying to hold back her reaction to the plain plaguing her small body.

“Hi Hana, I’m Dr. Ziegler…I’m going to help you, can you sit up for me or is it too painful?”

The younger woman clenches her jaw and with the help of Angela’s encouraging hands on her shoulders she’s able to sit herself up. Looking her up and down there’s not too many visible cuts and scratches on the girl but there is a large red patch bleeding through her suit on her left knee.

Angela sets her tablet down and leans over to examine the wound, biting her lip in thought.

“How bad is it?” The nerves in Hana’s voice cause it to waver and Angela has the urge to hug the hurt girl.

She’s young, barely looks over 20. 

“It’s not too bad, it looks like a tendon tear in your left knee, probably why you aren’t able to put weight on it without it feeling on fire.”

She snaps the buckles to her medical case open and examines the items in front of her as her fingers dance over various vials and bandages. A moment later she lifts a small syringe filled with a purple like liquid out and begins to load it into a needle.

“The nanos in this antidote should help the tendons repair themselves in two days, during that time you should have it iced as much as you can.”

Hana looks at the doctor in surprise, her mouth hanging open like a fish, damn she was _good._

“Holy shit. It would have taken any other medic at least thirty minutes to do what you just did.”

Angela feels her cheeks heat up at the compliment, a few people close to her station hearing Hanna’s words as they turn their heads quietly to look at her.

A smirk passes over Dr. Amari’s face so quickly it’s gone a second later.

“Eyes on your stations!” The head doctor snaps and everyone quickly resumes their work and the chatter amongst the tent picks back up.

Hana releases a small giggle, the corners of her mouth lifting up into a grin as Angela returns to examining her knee and gentle releases the syringe into it.

Like some kind of magic Hana can feel the swelling in her knee bubble down and the pain starts to shrivel into a dull throb.

“Whoa”, the D.Va agent breathes as she slumps back onto the table.

“I can see why Ana likes you the most.”

Angela shakes her head with a humble shrug and puts the vial back into her case, ignoring the compliment. 

“Try to pur less stress on your arms when you’re inside the MEKA, it’ll help heal your wounds faster.”

Hana smiles in response before a commotion a few stations away makes everyone turn their heads once again.

“Non, non, get your hands off me! What the fuck did you just do?!”

Amelie is shooing a doctor away from where she’s perched elegantly on an examination table. Craning her neck to see Angela can see that the sniper’s shoulder is badly injured, in fact she didn’t even know limbs could dislocate like that and the skin is starting to swell at a rapid pace.

“Oh god, I can’t look at that.” Hana covers her eyes to keep herself from vomiting at the scene.

The doctor tending to Widowmaker bites his lip and holds the rejected syringe in hand with an annoyed expression.

That’s when Angela sees it and her eyes widen.

Kane was one of the more seasoned medics in Overwatch but how he could have made such a rookie mistake surprised the blonde.

“That’s the wrong vial.” She mutters thinking no one’s heard her yet Dr. Amari’s hand reaches out of nowhere and all put shoves her into Kane’s back.

“What did you just say, _rookie_?” Kane’s annoyed expression moves from the sniper to Angela as he crosses his arm in disdain, looking her and down condescendingly.

All eyes are on her again and this time she stumbles over her sentences like a babbling idiot.

She makes a mental note to go bury herself in the ground after this.

“That’s the wrong vial, that will cause her muscles to seize on contact with the nanos and the swelling won’t allow her limb to go back into place for another five days…at least.”

Kane scoffs in disbelief at the blonde’s words and takes a step towards Amelie before he realizes his mistake and a metal tray is flying at his head. He ducks just in time for it to clatter to the ground,

“You imbecile! Look what you did to my fucking arm!” Amelie growls at the now cowering Kane as a few medics try to calm her down but she easily shoves them off with her good arm.

Dr. Amari rolls her eyes at Kane before she snaps her fingers at Angela.

“Zielger, do you know how to fix this?”

The young doctor snaps into action and hurries over with a pink vial in her hand she approaches the table where Amelie is sat as if she were approaching a lion in the wild.

An audible gasp leaves her lips when Amelie’s dark amber irises stare straight into her sapphire ones.

The agent doesn’t even have to say anything to appear threatening, her eyes do it for her and it causes a deep shiver to run up Angela’s spine all the way to her ears.

“This antidote will reverse the effects of the drug Kane just used. I promise.”

It takes another few seconds and everyone watches with baited breath but then Amelie lowers her guarded shoulders and allows Angela to come into her space.

“Make it quick,” she says nonchalantly with a roll of her neck. Angela does as she’s told and quickly loads the vial into a syringe and injects the liquid into the swelling shoulder. She counts to three as it starts to work and without warning braces her hands on the smooth shoulder and with one quick push moves it back into place.

“ _Fuck_!”

Amelie clenches her jaw and turns a murderous glare onto Angela but before any thrower can spill from her lips Dr. Amari steps in and claps Angela on the back.

“Well done! Everyone take note of Dr. Ziegler’s actions here today! All of you should be more like her.”

_Yup. I'm definitely going to go bury myself after this._

To avoid the death glare that is being aimed at her she begins to busy herself with cleaning her vials and getting the fuck out of there when a cold hand stops her.

She’s visibly shaking now as her eyes raise once more to meet the amber hue but finds them this time to be softer.

“Whatever is in that vial is fucking great,” she purrs as her voice feels like a smooth whiskey over Angela’s body.

Without another word Amelie slides off the table with such grace you wouldn’t think a second ago one of her limbs was literally in the most misshapen form ever.

She stretches out her arm to examine the work and lets out a satisfied sigh. She sends a wink in Angela’s direction and the stunned look on the doctor’s face is a great reward.

Okay, instead of burying herself maybe Angela will just go die instead.

 

— 

 

_ “Move, move, move!” _

The pounding of her heart, the hurried breaths scorching her lungs, and a distant booming sound are the only things resonating in her ears. Her eyes are wide as saucers, the only thing she can concentrate on is following the people in front of her.

Keep up. Keep up.

Every intake of breath is then followed by an intake of dust, she can’t even open her eyes entirely for fear of the brewing sandstorm surrounding them. Angela brings a shaky hand to wipe something on her cheek and pulls her hand away in shock as a streak of blood covers her knuckles.

Whose blood it is she’s unsure of and that’s what is so unsettling. Maybe she should give up, she doesn’t know how much more her legs can take and her medic backpack feels like a boulder crushing her spine.

Debris of rock, sand and ash fall everywhere she steps, her helmet doing nothing much but act as an umbrella to the small rocks that ripple off of it.

They hadn’t seen it coming. She had been sent for two weeks to a small riverbank emergency camp, helping the local villagers and some of the field soldiers recover from minor injuries when it struck.

A bomb at the side of the bank had detonated at approximately 5 in the morning. She had awoken from a fitful sleep to people shouting orders and the smell of something burning.

The Omnics had found the camp. More likely they had probably known about it for days and had been plotting their attack. The thought made Angela want to vomit.

Rolling off of the wildly uncomfortable cot she had instantly made her way outside to find the horrific sight of half the camp going up in flames, including some of the tents holding recovering patients.

She had no time to scream though before she knew it her arm was being yanked by her friend Kayla, another fellow medic.

She hadn’t been able to make out many of the words being said to her over the panic but she had understood it enough to put on the gear that was now weighing down her body.

“We’re almost to the evacuation zone!” Kayla calls to her, hoping her voice can encourage Angela to keep moving her legs. She was so tired, just so fucking tired.

The time that had passed since they had been able to evacuate the camp felt like days now and the entirety of that time had been running, avoiding more bombs detonating, and the worst part of it all was watching in horror at the various victims, none of them she could help.

Her commander wouldn’t allow any of them to stop and tend to the wounded along their path.

“It’s more important to get you back to the base, you can help more people with your research!”

The reasoning, which was absolutely absurd, weighed on Angela heavily. Who was to say her life was more valuable than the struggling man she saw on the side of the road? His leg had been blown off by a stray Omnic detonator and the pain in his eyes had shook her to the core.

“Almost there, everyone heads up! Five to each rescue plane, if you don’t make the rendezvous we’re leaving you here!”

The blonde swallows thickly before her foot catches on a wedged stone and she topples to the ground. The weight of her pack makes the fall even more hard and as she quickly collides with the heavy ground the wind leaves her throat.

“H-Help!” She manages to choke out the words through the dirt suffocating her, but her hands reach for nothing. Kayla is nowhere near to her knowledge.

Maybe this was it.

“Please!” One last call to the universe but as the doctor beings to accept her fate, bracing for the pain of whatever explosion may kill her she feels two strong hands lock around her arms and lift her.

“We got a straggler, coming to the checkpoint now!”

A familiar voice slices through the air, it has a slight French accent and even in everything that’s happening it washes over Angela’s body and soothes her for a second.

_It’s her._

The field is clouded too much for her to make out exactly who has pulled her up but as she takes a step forward and finds her knees buckling the same arms catch her and hook under her legs.

If it weren’t for, you know, the entire world imploding at the moment she would’ve blushed at this but all she can do is hang onto the front patch of the woman's front gear with a dazed expression.

_What the fuck was she doing?_

Amelie hardly ever lagged behind, and especially for medical personnel. The otherwise hardened sniper would’ve ignored the helpless call on any other day but for some reason the small form of the blonde girl snapped something inside of her.

McCree had given her a warning look but she shook it off the moment she had picked up the younger woman in her arms.

_She seems so fragile._

Just seeing her laying there, weighted down by her pack usually would make Amelie think she looked pathetic but no, it made her feel something else and she couldn’t put her finger on it.

The rescue planes finally come into view and Amelie glances around unsure of where to deposit the woman in her arms.

“Amelie?” Angela’s voice comes out in one long breath and Amelie inwardly curses realizing the doctor can see her clearly now as the filth surrounding them had dissipated somewhat at the rally point.

_Holy shit. Widowmaker was the one to save her?_

Humiliation didn’t even begin to cover what Angela was feeling right now as she was still recovering from their earlier interaction. Curled up like a wounded animal in one of the top agent’s arms. What would people think? What if Dr. Amari saw?

Would she lose her job because of her inability to work in the field? Her head swam with a multitude of situations so much that it distracted her from Kayla calling her name.

Her feet suddenly meet the ground and she’s standing upright, this time she makes an effort to ground herself just so the other woman knows she’s a competent human being.

“Angela! Our plane is here!”

Amelie looks at her expectantly to join her friend across the way but the words that come out of Angela’s mouth next shock her,

“You saved my life…t-thank you.”

She’s taken aback for a few seconds, the evidence in her facial expression. No one had ever _thanked_ her for anything before. Especially not anyone she had ever worked in the field with.

“Widow, we’re this one!”

McCree’s voice interrupts her inner turmoil and she turns, slinging her gun over her shoulder before casting one last glance to the blonde doctor as she moves to board the jet.

Angela turns to join Kayla but just as her feet start to move in the direction a loud canon-like sound comes from the sky and she watches in absolute horror as an Omnic missile splits from the clouds like an angel of death straight into the rescue plane Kayla is boarding.

“KAYLA!”

The scream leaves her lungs like something ripping itself out of her body, the rebound from the blast colliding with the plane hits her in the chest like a brick, sending her body flying like a rag doll through the air.

The world goes sideways and all she can hear is a deafening ringing in her ears. The flames from the plane flicker up into the sky and the smoke coils into the air like a snake. Her stomach feels like she’s been punched but she regains strength and pushes herself up.

One of the plane’s wings lets out a spurt of flames and detaches itself from the body of the jet and falls directly onto a group of soldiers trying to drag their half burning bodies away. Their screams are the only thing Angela can hear over the ringing.

_Kayla…Kayla!_

She forces her legs to run to the plane. Maybe she can save some of them, maybe not all was lost but as she approaches the scene it’s something out of a disaster film, just way more graphic than she had ever imagined.

Removing the pack she yanks open the top and begins searching for syringes, bandages, anything she can possibly fathom but freezes mid-grab for a bandage.

This image would haunt Angela Ziegler for the rest of her life.

No more than two feet away from her, staring straight into her eyes, is Kayla’s head.

 

— 

 

_ An extremely high pitched noise breaks through Angela’s shock as a red laser lands itself directly on a few straggling Omnic soldiers that survived the crash and that are now making their way haphazardly towards her. _

She can’t move she’s frozen in place, the air in her lungs seems to have left long ago and the control over her legs is nonexistent.

Oh, so _this_ was going to be the end. Not back in the camp, not when she fell, but now here. Staring at the severed head of her friend, perhaps the closest thing she had to a best friend here.

In a matter of seconds each one is meticulously sniped through the head to only crumble into a heap of burning scrap.

“I’ve got you, doctor.”

The voice of Amelie returns to her ears after god knows how long she’s been kneeling there, vomiting her guts out.

This time she doesn’t say anything as she’s once again lifted to her feet. Amelie’s arm snakes around her waist to support her as they hurry to the last evacuation ship.

It doesn’t register when they board or when she’s sat down by a fellow medic to check her over. Her eyes stare straight ahead the image of Kayla flashing in her mind over and over. Like a fucked up broken projector.

“Do you know your name?”

“What is today’s date?”

“Can you look straight at this light?”

The onslaught of questions is just too much, to her knowledge Angela hadn’t hit her head that hard. The constant repetition was making her skull pound though. She squeezes her eyes shut angrily, trying to keep the tears at bay from what she had just saw.

_Don’t let them see you cry._

“Give her some fucking space for a minute, Darwin.”

Amelie shoos away the persistent medic and steps between Angela and him, setting her jaw in serious manner. Her stance to someone looking on, and if Angela hadn’t been stuck in her own head right now, would seem almost protective on the Widow’s part.

He gives the sniper an incredulous look before she snaps her fingers and he scurries away, almost tripping over his feet.

The black haired woman returns her gaze to the shaking form of the doctor and kneels down so she’s eye level with her.

Angela’s breathing has since become erratic, she can feel the blood coursing through her veins once again and a body full ache is soon catching up to her.

She grapples at the front of the heavy military jacket they had made her put on in their haste to leave the attacked camp. Her cheeks feel hot and for some reason gasping for breath isn’t really helping her.

“The fuck’s wrong with this one?”

A harsh southern accent comes from behind her before Amelie’s eyes snap warningly to McCree standing to the side.

“The shock is probably catching up to her.”

Suddenly a cool hand is on her feverish cheek and as her eyes dart around the plane cabin the woman in front of her tries to get her to concentrate on her face.

The soft cognac colored eyes that focus on hers take her breath away in an entirely different way. Of all the time she spent studying Overwatch’s top agents and even occasionally passing them in the base she had never stopped to truly _look_ at the absolute stunning features of Amelie Lacroix.

“Doctor just focus on me. You’re having a panic attack, you’re going to be okay we’re on the rescue plane headed back to base…”

Although Amelie is right in front of her, practically speaking words closer to her face than anyone’s ever been before, the soft French accent sounds miles away.

It’s like floating underwater, when you’re just drifting from the shore and the muffled sound of the waves and the water is all you can hear.

That’s what it felt like and it every sound was getting farther and farther by the second.

“Doctor Ziegler…?”

The last thing she hears is Amelie’s soft call to her before she lets herself succumb to drifting away.

 

* * *

 


	2. Don't You Dare Miss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey all, sorry for the delay in posting! I'm so overjoyed at everyone's positive response, thank you so much!
> 
> all grammar and spelling mistakes are mine, I try to fix any I miss after my initial read-over
> 
> just wanted to clear a few things up; Gerard obviously does not exist in this universe (at least in the canon sense), and the back stories are different since it's AU. I'm jumping back and forth between past instances a lot, but I just want to establish the storyline as best I can
> 
> love you all!

* * *

 

 

_ Angela could remember the beginning of the Omnic crisis like it was yesterday. Historics would come to refer to the period in time as the Third World War._

It was just like any regular morning for her, wake up, get ready for school, etc. Sometimes when she closes her eyes the memories flood back and she can’t help but seize up in phantom a pain. Her parents were downstairs with the news playing on the TV as it usually did, the dog barking at the door as people occasionally passed by.

“Angie, breakfast is ready!” Her mother calls up the stairs just as she’s stuffing the rest of her books into her backpack.

The delightful aroma of toast, eggs and bacon fill the house when she descends into the kitchen.

“This looks great mom, thank you.” She ties her blonde hair up in a ponytail and drops her bag by the entryway, taking a seat at the table.

“Rachel called last night after you had gone to sleep, she sends her love.”

Angela feels a tug at her heart at the mention of her older sister as she responds with a small nod. She hadn’t seen her in over a year since the brilliant Rachel Ziegler, medical prodigy, had flown out to take a medical post in Belgium where she was running a high-tech research lab.

Rachel Ziegler was a force to be reckoned with. The girl had graduated high school at 16, completed medical school by 22, and now at just 26 had developed some of the most advanced medical engineering in history.

Nanonite technology was at the forefront of advancing medical practice and Rachel Ziegler was to thank for that. Everyone in the medical field knew of the Ziegler nanonites, able to repair bone and muscle damage within hours but even after countless praise and international recognition it still wasn’t enough for Rachel, no, she needed them to be better she needed them to be able to do things within minutes and even seconds. She wasn't going to stop until she had that ability.

Then again nothing had ever been good enough for her genius sister. Perhaps it had been because of the pressure her parents had impressed upon Rachel from a young age. The prodigy daughter of the famous neurosurgeon Marcus Ziegler, his prized possession wasn't his career but his firstborn. Sometimes Angela would joke bitterly that her father's pride for Rachel could not fit into a room. 

Angela had seen it her entire life—the amount of pride that weighed Rachel down more than lift her up. Praise was like a drug to her, and even as Angela tried to follow in her footsteps, both Rachel and their father were world renowned doctors, something that was completely impossible to live up to.

The quiet murmur of the TV in the living room fills the soft silence in the room as they eat, her father is no doubt watching intently—this time was usually the only time he could catch up on world news before he went to work at this lab until the early hours of the morning.

All the fuss about her sister had terrified Angela to the point where she was glad she wasn’t the smartest kid in the room, at least when Rachel had been there.

“Marcus, the food is getting cold!”

A small grunt of affirmation is heard from the living room and her mother gives a small shake of worry. Ever since Rachel had taken off with no intention of looking back her father had taken to glueing himself to the TV in case she ever made the news.

It was ironic really, that after all this waiting to see just her name on the news prompter that today would be the day Angela finally saw her sister’s name in lights, not for the reasons she would ever fathom though.

The newscaster’s voice jumps onto the screen and the BBC prompter starts to go wild, helicopter footage of of burning buildings and Omnic robots tearing their way through the streets come onto the screen.

“Breaking news! An Omnic uprising has broken out in Belgium this morning at 8:14am and I’m getting reports it has since spread to France, Germany, and is slowly making its way towards Poland. All countries have declared a state of emergency as citizens are told to stay in doors as the special forces try to quell this disturbance…”

Her heart stops and the world around her slows as the spoon in her mouth drops to the table with a clatter. In a flash her and her mother are in the living room, standing beside her shell shocked father as they stare at the glare of the television.

The Omnics had lived amongst humans for decades. They were the cliche image of the AI robot able to function in human society, a cartoon like The Jetsons weren’t far off from their predictions of a future involving humans and AI.

“Breaking news, the prime minister of France is declared dead after an assignation by rogue Omnics…”

Omnics had been created to increase economy revenue, assist in everyday duties, and anything else that humans saw fit for AI robots to assimilate to. They became nannies, maids, factory workers, medical assistants, anything you could name Omnics were there and respected by humans.

It had been a typical malfunction, or at least Omnic Corp claimed that. Angela couldn’t remember the exact story because it had filtered out of the news pretty quickly, maybe for good reason.

The incident occurred about a year and a half ago, a wealthy Austrian family were murdered in their sleep by their Omnic housekeepers who had then set the family mansion ablaze. They had been apprehended immediately and were decommissioned the next day and thrown into the incinerator where the retired Omnics went.

It had shaken everyone across the world because these robots had never exhibited violent tendencies unless they had been programmed for military use, which was still something scientists had been working on, but even then Omnic Corp had avoided selling to military operations because they did not want their robots to be seen as violent creations.

Omnic Corp had released a statement of apology and a promise to decommission any robots that people had safety concerns about. There was still no resolve about the murders, no charges could be brought upon the Corp because of their release laws, so everyone eventually just had to let it go, which morally felt so wrong.

‘Just a program malfunction’ Was all that could be said, but none of it seemed right.

She’s forced back to reality as more footage of Omnic uprisings across Europe appear on the screen. Her heart seizes before a cold feeling takes over her body, her heart dropping into her stomach.

“We’re just getting news now the root cause of this uprising began in the European nano lab located in Belgium. Omnics on the site of the lab began violently raiding the research base at 3:30am before turning to a mass killing of researches at the lab, the death toll is now 103 and counting…”

A large photo of the Belgium lab ablaze in a fury of flames splashes onto the screen and the image will forever be engrained in her mind.

Angela is so entranced by the television she doesn’t notice her mother in the background frantically dialing her sister’s number repeatedly and screaming into the receiver, every time reaching her voicemail. Still sitting, frozen in place, her father’s face blanches as if he’s seen a ghost,

“Marion, the TV, look!”

Now smack dab on the screen is her sister’s face, a photo no doubt taken for some medical journal. Her perfect blonde hair is pulled into a braid and the wide smile on her face to a regular onlooker would appear sweet but a closer look would reveal it was somewhat sinister in nature.

The phrase ‘breaking news’ would be one that Angela would come to despise.

“We are just now receiving word now that a warrant has been set for the arrest of nano engineer and creator Rachel Ziegler in connection to the uprising. She was finishing a nano based project at the ENL lab and was set to release her research to the United Nations and the World Health Organization this week, other warrants for arrest include these people linked to her…”

Marcus lifts a hand to his mouth, speechless and broken. Everything he’s built, his pride and joy, is falling apart right in front of his face and he can’t do anything to stop it.

“Her research has helped heal millions in medical practice and her most recent project was said to be combining nano technology with Omnic AI for the purpose of aiding military medical personnel. The doctor is said to have fled the base at 5:10am with a few Omnic guards and two other doctors in tow after shooting and killing her research partners, along with attempting to detonate a bomb inside the rest of the facility wing.”

“No, no, no…” Marion is beside herself, she takes Marcus’ hand and falls to her knees, unable to help the gut wrenching sobs that escape her throat. The sound alone shatters Angela’s heart.

She can’t even react, tears don’t fall from her face, but her body feels cold as ice and she doesn’t know how to feel or _what_ to feel. She just knows she has to steady her breathing because the room is spinning dangerously fast.

She doesn’t make it to school that day, or the rest of the week for that matter. The house falls into a dead silence, even the dog stops barking. The only sound that could be heard was the TV. Her parents stayed in the living room for days waiting for updates. The entire European continent declared a state of emergency as Omnics made their way into the middle east towards Asia.

Militaries across the world were rolling out their highest weapons to try to fight this uprising but some failed to be too late, the uprising was slowly causing the world to fall into disarray.

Omnic Corp mysteriously shut down and when the building was raided in search of the board members everything had been destroyed. Computers smashed, elevators off their hinges and walls splattered with blood and glass.

Every piece of information was erased and the head of the company, Richard Omnic, gone into the night.

Rachel didn’t remain a fugitive for long because she and her group were arrested three days later not far from outside the Iranian border with multiple nuclear weapons. 

Her sister was a complete stranger to her now. Just another terrorist on her television screen. As the days drew on every news source had labeled her as such, a traitor, a cult leader, everything under the sun. 

Angela didn’t know how long she and her parents had stared at the video of Rachel being taken away by UN soldiers in handcuffs, a long blood smear stained across her cheek and neck, she was still in her lab coat her braid still near perfect. A small maniacal smile remained on her face the entire time.

She felt like the last few days were a trance and she didn’t snap out of it until the CIA came crashing through their door.

 

—

 

_ “Again.” _

Rain falls hard from the skies and coats the thin rain jacket Amelie had on. If you could even call it a rain jacket, it was razor thin and wasn’t doing its actual job correctly but its all she had been able to put on in her haste.

She raises the sniper and peers through the scope at the target ahead of her. Her eyes squint in concentration and her finger ghosts over the trigger as soft as a butterfly before she snaps it and the bullet flies smoothly into the center of the target. Spot on.

Amelie lowers the gun, a prideful grin on her face as she looks to her face whose face remains stoic and cold. He doesn’t even make eye contact with her, his eyes just fixate on the target in front of them.

“Again.” He says without even missing a beat and Amelie swallows hard. The rain had only gotten heavier as the hours pulled on, they had been out here for an eternity and she hadn’t missed once.

“Papa—“

“Do not make me repeat myself.”

Without a word she raises the gun again and focuses through the scope. She takes a deep breath and the world around her fades away and all that she can sense is the scope, the gun, and the soft beat of the rain against her shoulders.

Her finger lingers over the trigger once more, a movement so engrained in her system that she doesn’t even have to think about it.

It’s when the world around her falls silent that she pulls the trigger and listens to the sharp release of the magazine as the bullet whistles out into the world.

Yet this time she moves the barrel just slightly to the left at the last second and watches as the bullet flies straight through the second circle of the target, missing the center by near inches.

“Amelie!” She’s met with her father’s incredulous tone as she pulls back from the scope to stare at the man beside her. She raises an eyebrow and lowers the gun.

“You did that on purpose! What are you thinking—“

“We’ve been out here for hours, I’m exhausted, it’s raining, I want to go home papa!”

She realizes she’s misspoken the minute she finishes her sentence and watches with a nervous swallow as her father leans down to come eye level with her. His dark eyes are unwavering and he clenches his jaw hard, his black hair is slick from the rain and every now and then small droplets fall from it onto his face but he remains unfazed by the biting cold.

“Where do you get the privilege of being able to go home to a nice large mansion?”

Amelie doesn’t hesitate in her response, she knows never to hesitate when answering him.

“Because of you.”

“You’re by far the best distance shooter of your age, who is that because of?”

“You.”

“ _Oui_. I didn’t get to be to my rank at your age…far from it, my father didn’t care what the fuck I did, but yours does. I raised you with honor and discipline, Amelie, not disrespect and-”

“You did papa, I’m sorry, I—“

“ _Enough_. You miss the target one more time and we’re staying the entire night.”

Silently they both return their eyes to the round circles in front of them. The rifle feels heavy in her hands and her body struggles against a giant wave of guilt but it washes away just as quickly as it comes.

 

—

 

_ Angela jerks awake with a start, her throat is dry and she squeezes her eyes shut against the bright fluorescent lights that glare down at her. She doesn’t know how long she’s been out and all she can remember is the vague words Amelie was saying to her, McCree’s voice in the back and Kayla calling to her. _

Her head pounds heavily and she can register the bed she’s in and maybe even the medical area but other than that nothing else is coming together.

Raising a hesitant hand to block out the light a familiar voice enters her ears and she turns her head to an amused looking Dr. Amari.

“You took quite a fall there, rookie.”

Her eyes take a second to adjust to the lights but once they do she can carefully assess the damage to herself. A lot of bruises, some bandages scattered across her left arm, and to her knowledge nothing broken or torn. Good. She good deal with this easily.

The nanos back in her kit could take care of the ache in a couple of hours tops. The pounding in her head though would have to be addressed, she couldn’t tell if it was a concussion or just from the impact.

“How long have I been out?”

Dr. Amari swipes open her holopad and casually pulls up Angela’s medical file with a small click of her tongue,

“Just two days-“

“Two days?!”

All the work she could have been doing in those two days, just thrown out the window!

Of all the the time wasted! Angela’s head is swimming with irritation as she tries to throw the blankets off her body to climb off the bed before Dr. Amari stops her gently,

“Whoa, calm down Ziegler, you’re alright. Lay back, you shouldn’t strain your body anymore.”

With some reluctance Dr. Amari is able to get her to lay back but that doesn’t stop the pained expression that crosses her face at all the time lost, she just wants to assess her injuries, fix them, then get back to work.

They ran over her small list of injuries, nothing major and as she had suspected just a light concussion, cuts and bruises galore but nothing serious.

“When can I get back into the field?”

The shake of her head that Dr. Amari gives her makes her heart sink and she thinks maybe this is it. She’s blown her chance at being an Overwatch medic and she hadn’t even been here a month.

“I don’t think you’re fit for the field, Ziegler…so I’m going to put you on research.”

Angela’s eyes go as wide as they possibly can and any sentence of apology and shame she had ready dies on her tongue instantly. Research? That was where the hot shots went, that’s where they got to play with the most advanced possible equipment that Overwatch had to offer.

“Dr. Amari…I’m flattered but I’ve literally been here less than a month and my research is much more field based-“

Any other words she has are cut off as Dr. Amari holds up her hand and brings her holopad over to the bed, setting it on her lap. Staring up at her is her class photo from medical school and a series of stats and text next to it. She blinks twice and looks at the older woman in confusion.

“Angela, do you know how Overwatch medics are chosen?”

Was this a trick question?

“Well…they apply and then they’re screened and—“

“In a simple way you’re not wrong but very naive.” Dr. Amari slides a stool towards the bed and takes a seat and Angela’s confusion only grows.

“I’ve tracked your entire career from your first day at college. We don’t just rifle through a pile of applicants, no, we _choose_ the people we bring onto Overwatch. Every single person that walks through our doors has been thoroughly hand picked from the minute they so much as enter their first year biology course.”

Angela just stares at the doctor in front of her, unable to fully formulate a sentence so the other woman continues with ease,

“I saw something special in you the moment I was handed your file and I can’t say the same for many of the medics we bring on board. What you have is a raw drive, you have the potential to help millions more people but not in the field almost getting blown up by Omnics, I want you in the lab working side by side with the agents. Can you do this for me?”

It’s incredulous to her that Dr. Amari would even be _imploring_ her to do this, the honor washes over her like a bucket of cold water and in this moment she should feel overwhelming pride but all she can think about is her sister.

_I shouldn’t be here, it should have never been me._

As if Dr. Amari can read the exact thoughts plaguing her mind the holopad goes to sleep on cue and the doctor uncharacteristically puts a hand on Angela’s arm.

“I can’t imagine the pain you and your family have endured these past years. I have a daughter, and as a mother I can’t even fathom that. I know anyone in your position would feel guilt but you shouldn’t. Angela you’ve worked just as hard, if not harder, to be here and prove yourself. Your sister was bright, but you’re brighter.”

She almost rears back at her words but stops herself, the expression on her face that of only surprise. She had never been told any of this, not her peers nor her professors, in fact she had been looked down upon and it had taken her years to gain the amount of respect she had now.

Before all of this the Ziegler name was highly respected amongst the medical crowd but it had quickly turned into a disgraced one.

“I’d be honored to join agent research.” The blonde sets her mouth in a firm line and nods towards her superior. Dr. Amari’s face lights up and she claps a hand on her back, careful of the bandages across her shoulder. She stands and gathers her things, making her way towards the entrance.

“Excellent, we’ll get you set up tomorrow. I must say when Amelie brought your battered form in here I thought we had lost you.”

Angela freezes and just to make sure she’s heard Ana right she puts her hand up,

“W-Wait, Amelie Lacroix was the one that rescued me?”

Dr. Amari gives her a funny look and nods in affirmation, embarrassment instantly floods through her at new information. She was hoping she had dreamt that whole interaction on the field but as it is confirmed a hard reality she has to physically stop herself from face palming to avoid further damaging her head.

“She also stayed until you had been fully looked over by the doctors and she’s been stopping by every day to check on you.”

_Wait, what?_

Dr. Amari lets out an amused sound and exits the room quickly and leaves Angela to process everything but it doesn’t miss the other woman at the extremely red tint that lingers on the young woman's cheeks.

 

—

 

_ Amelie didn’t really consider herself a party girl by any means but in her last few teenage years she had become rebellious to a degree. The girl that her father knew studied, practiced at the shooting range, read, studied and then practiced some more.  _

The pressure was too much. She needed let loose so when her best friend Gabrielle had phoned her that evening to invite her to one of the fanciest parties in Paris she had excitedly accepted.

She rarely got out and was rarely _allowed._ She felt like a god damn princess trapped in a tower and she didn’t know for what reason. Amelie was plenty capable at handling and protecting herself, she could shoot a target in a seconds and yet her father treated her like she was going to shatter at any moment.

Her parent’s dinner party perfectly aligned with tonight as if it were fate. It was up north so they would most likely be staying the night there giving Amelie all the freedom she needed.

After waving them innocently goodbye in the driveway Gabrielle had pulled up in her car not ten minutes after their departure.

“He’s the hottest bachelor in all of Paris, Emmy, I swear you’re going to fall in love with him. He throws parties as if they’re straight out of the Great Gatsby or something!”

The raven haired girl had to stop herself from laughing at how boy crazy her friend was, this was mainly about getting out of the house and letting loose, she was in no way on the hunt for anyone.

Men who threw parties such as this to overcompensate for something in their life weren’t really her type and if she were thinking about it hard enough _men_ weren’t really her type either.

She of course had had her fair share of dates with boys to piss her father off but she had not gone further than a kiss on the lips. It didn’t interest her in the slightest, now her female physics professor on the other hand was another story.

“As long as there’s alcohol, I think I’ll be content.”

Gabrielle grins next to her as they wind around a road into the city, the brilliant lights of the Eiffel Tower green them as it towers over the city below, from far away it looks just like a million little glimmering crystals in formation.

“There will be all the alcohol we can imagine! Champagne fountains!”

The two laughed into the night as the car approached the luxurious Parisian townhouse alive with music booming through the open windows, multiple different conversations happening at once, topped off shouts of delight and laughter.

Model like women and eligible bachelors float in and out of the house, leaving and entering like gilded butterflies. They seem untouchable and Amelie has never felt self-conscious of herself until now.

Maybe spending all that time cooped up in her family mansion wasn’t the best for her social life, and it wasn’t like she didn’t know how to dress, far from it actually.

She easily donned couture head to toe from dusk till dawn some nights, everything in her closet screamed expensive and designer but there was something about the way these women at this party just wore it so _effortlessly_.

“Let’s get you some champagne.” Gabrielle senses her overthinking and tugs her friend into the party and through the throngs of people chatting and drinking.

Once a glass is placed in her hand and she’s taken a few sips to loosen herself up the party seems much less intimidating. Amber eyes scan over the masses, sharing fleeting glances with various people but never remaining on one. Everyone here looked the same to her, blonde, tall, gorgeous.

“Em, that’s him over there!” Gabrielle points at the beginning to a large staircase and indeed there is the ‘bachelor’ of the hour.

If Amelie was being honest the man looked completely boring and emotionless but none the less she pushes Gabrielle towards him with a mischievous grin,

“Go get him, Gabby!” The other girl lets out a giggle and then straightens herself out and sets her shoulders before sauntering over.

The champagne feels cool on her throat as she polishes off her first glass and reaches for another from a passing tray.

She has no real interest in the crowd of people hammering with adrenaline so she makes her way up to the balcony area. The fresh air feels refreshing as it tickles her skin and she sets herself up against one of the nice railings overlooking the city.

Paris in the springtime was something breathtaking, any Parisian would agree you’d have see this sight before you die.

The spring weather brings in a soft mist that blankets itself over the city scape, a soft breeze blows and the rich scent of flowers fill the balcony area from the overflowing amounts of flora that encapsulate the area.

“All alone, huh? You’re much to pretty to be alone at a party like this.”

A man about her age, slicked back black hair and a somewhat funny looking mustache approaches her at the railing and she has to suppress an eye roll at his words, turning to him with a small (fake) smile.

“Just enjoying the view.” He nods and takes a sip from his own drink as he surveys her and she can’t help but shift uncomfortably at that.

By no means is Amelie threatened though, far from it, she could easily disarm and have him in a chokehold within seconds but she thinks she’ll entertain this for a small second.

“I’m Gerard. Gerard Martin.”

He extends a hand and she gently places hers in his for a shake before pulling back. He raises an eyebrow and lets out a soft chuckle. “Do you always act so coy around men?”

This time she fixates her amber glare on him and he steps back slightly. Her lips find the edge of her glass and take a sip before replying,

“I’m sorry you mistook my non-interest for being coy.” At this he lets out a small laugh and grabs his chest feigning pain, Amelie finally allowing her eyes to roll. Maybe this party wasn’t a great idea after all.

Gerard surveys her once more before his eyes go a little wider and she gives him an inquiring look.

“Merde. You’re Anton Lacroix’s daughter, aren’t you?”

“I have a name. It’s Amelie, you imbecile.”

Of course some of her father’s ex-colleagues would be at at an event like this, she can’t escape him, no matter how far she goes. The insult seems to roll off Gerard like a wave as he lets out yet another chuckle, and the noise is really starting to piss her off.

“I don’t work for him if that’s what you’re thinking. My father and him did special ops together, I think I even spent Christmas at your house once?”

Amelie clicks her tongue and points a finger at Gerard. “You’re Lee Martin's son.”

He gives her a little bow of affirmation as she continues with a small laugh, “Last time I saw you, you couldn’t keep your grubby hands off the Christmas pudding. You devoured the entire thing before the maids could even bring it to the table.”

Gerard pulls at his collar in embarrassment and takes an awkward sip from his tumbler. “Your memory definitely serves you correctly. I deserved that.”

They both laugh this time and Amelie’s shoulders don’t feel as tense anymore. She rolls the stem of her champagne glass between her fingers and nods to him.

“What are you doing at a party like this? If memory also recalls you’re very much engaged to Odette Devereux.”

A perfectly sculpted eyebrow raises itself and Gerard pulls at his collar once more and swallows before looking down at his hands on the railing.

“ _Oui_. You’re not wrong. I just…need to get out of the house sometimes-“

“Oh the pain! The utter horror of having to marry the heiress to one of the biggest banks in all of Europe, I can’t imagine what turmoil you’re in!”

Every word drips with sarcasm, her voice is ice cold and the threatening glow of her amber eyes makes Gerard realize his mistake. Amelie had no time to feel bad for rich men’s sob stories, especially ones that acted as if this had been forced upon them.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Amelie feels Gerard shift to the defensive and she toys on the edge, seeing how far she can push this.

“Wouldn’t the future Mrs. Martin like to know her oh so handsome fiancé is at parties hitting on other women?”

Gerard stiffens and his lips curls up into something that can only be comparable to a sneer of some sort. He casts her a judgmental look, trying to make her falter, but Amelie sets her jaw and returns the challenge silently.

He turns to go but not before he throws over his shoulder, “You know, your father’s reputation as a sadistic cold leader never made sense because his family was the complete opposite but I can see that’s wrong as well. You’re just as cold and unpleasant as a spider.”

The words wash over Amelie like a bucket of ice water and all she can do is clench her fists in anger. She has to physically stop herself from wrangling his neck and she watches him go with such distain.

There’s no time to dwell on the unpleasant feeling because her phone is beeping and her blood goes even colder at her father on the caller ID. “Papa?”

Amelie tries to go into a far corner of the balcony where the noise from the party is less prominent and she can hear clearer.

“Amelie? Ivan said he heard a loud noise in my study, are you alright?”

She inwardly curses. Ivan their Omnic house keeper was supposed to be out tonight, the robot barely left his small quarters during the night anyways.

“Yes of course, everything’s fine papa.” She tries her hardest but she knows just the tiniest bit of falter in her voice will alert him. He releases a breath on the other end and she can practically hear the conflict in his head.

“Your mother and I are coming home tonight, just to makes sure you are safe.”

Before she can protest he hangs up and she all but throws her phone over the edge of the building. Shit. She had to get home and get home _fast._

Stumbling down the stairs towards the entryway her eyes search frantically for Gabrielle but the girl is no where to be found. 

“Amelie?” _Thank god._ She turns and sees the confused face of her best friend. She motions to her phone and bites her lip, “My father called me and says they’re coming back tonight—I have to go Gabby, I-“

Without a word Gabrielle shoves the car keys into her shaking hands and pushes her towards the door, “You must go then!”

“What about you, how are you going to get home?”

Gabrielle gives her a mischievous smirk and tilts her head to the stairwell where the host of the party is waiting for her at the top. “I think I can manage.”

Amelie squeezes her friend’s hand and the two bump foreheads in affection before she all but sprints out of the house, her heels clicking on the stone walkway and she’s rather impressed with herself for being able to carry herself this quickly on heels no doubt.

The car yanks itself out and away from the sounds of the party that fade away in the distance as she speeds her way out of Paris and back into the darkness of the night.

 

—

 

_ “Why did you check up on me?” _

Amelie almost drops the cup of yogurt she’s about to put on her tray at the small shaky voice that sidles up next to her. She doesn’t move to even look at the doctor before continuing down the line with her plate, pretending to observe the roast of the day.

Angela huffs in frustration beside her and opens her mouth to repeat until Amelie cuts her off,

“I wanted to see if you were okay, something wrong with that?”

Large blue eyes blink at the response after expecting something like a denial or, ‘because I did what’s it to you?’

“Uhm, no, I just assumed since…”

“I barely know you?”

“Well yes, that was one theory I had…”

Amelie lets out an amused noise and the blonde scoffs at that, holding her own tray tightly in her hand. “You know, after sustaining as many injuries as you did you’re oddly resilient.”

Angela blushes but quickly tries to get rid of it and instead lets a large smile cross her face.

 _That’s cute._ Amelie thinks with a quick glance towards the shorter woman.

“I know a lot more about you than you think, Ziegler.”

Amelie’s nonchalant attitude throws Angela for a bit of a loop and she’s not sure if it’s her slight concussion but as the sniper’s hand hovers over the fruit in front of her, looking for the least bruised apple of the bunch, it dawns on Angela that Amelie knew she wasn’t just rescuing a straggler on the battlefield.

“You know, the more bruises an apple has the better it is.”

Perfectly sculpted eyebrows raise at this and the intimidating woman finally turns to fully regard the young doctor. 

“Wait, really?”

Angela nods confidently and picks the most busted one of the bunch and places it daintily next to the yogurt cup on Amelie’s tray, choosing a nicely bruised one for herself.

“Well yeah, if you believe every dumb thing a doctor tells you.” Angela deadpans and waits for the other woman to roll her eyes or say a snide remark but instead she lets out a loud laugh, causing some people in the cafeteria line to give the pair a look.

“Good one, Zielger.”

“My name’s Angela.”

“Okay, good one _Angela_.”

They silently finish their food perusing and swipe their IDs at the checkout, about to go to their separate tables Amelie tosses one last thing over her shoulder,

“And the reason I checked on you is because I wanted to make sure you recovered. You’re far too important to lose.”

Before Angela can ask any follow up questions the black haired beauty has already swayed through the crowd towards the section where the agents ate, casting one wink back to her.

 

—

 

_ “Today, just two months after the Omnic uprising began and the arrest of Rachel Ziegler was made, the International Criminal Court has released a statement letting the world know they are finally going to announce their sentencing of the doctor and her accomplices. Join us live tomorrow in London for the verdict.” _

No one in their wildest dreams would have ever seen something like this coming. The Omnic crisis was much more than a “crisis"; it was an entire world war. Every country had now declared a state of war, militaries were being rolled out at haste, people were enlisting, drafts were being set into place.

It wasn’t that simple though, it wasn’t black and white, no good vs evil. There were some that sided with the Omnics, supported their plight. Riots and demonstrations were popping up everywhere, no one could turn on the news without another reporting on a protest, a bombing, or another Omnic attack.

After the Zieglers were questioned and there was no found connection in Rachel’s crimes to the family, they were flown out to London at the expense of the ICC. Her father demanded an audience with the jury, but none was offered to the family. In fact Angela was convinced the court wanted to hide them and it was unclear who they were really trying to protect in doing so.

They barely spoke to anyone anymore, especially not each other. Meals were completely silent and void of eye contact.

Angela had no idea what she was going to say to her sister once she saw her. A month ago she knew exactly what she wanted to ask, say, scream, cry, but now just hours away from seeing her everything was now nothing.

The dread in her stomach was enormous as their car neared the holding compound. A dozen armed guards stood outside and after a thorough search of the vehicle allowed them to enter.

Growing up Angela had only seen fleeting images and news stories about the ICC and the criminals they indicted, but she knew they were the highest form of law in the world and never did she think her sister would be named the number one criminal in the world.

“Cell phones, keys, anything in your pockets needs to come out and go into one of these safes. You can collect your things after your visit.”

She digs around in her pockets for anything but only comes up with a wallet and some gum wrappers, she tosses them in the bin with her parent’s things and follows them through the security scanner.

She keeps her head down and walks close to her mother’s side as they enter through the holding doors. She watches as they slam shut behind them and lock with a small air hiss.

Four UN soldiers accompany them through and Angela tries not to look around at the various holding cells—homes to some of the most infamous criminals in the world, and her sister was one of them.

“One at a time. You’ll have fifteen minutes each.”

Her father goes in first, at exactly the fifteen minute mark the doors swing open and he storms out, refusing to look either Angela or her mother in the eye. Marcus’ fists are clenched so hard at his side his knuckles burn a bright white.

Marion enters second and doesn’t even last more than ten minutes. She leaves sobbing, clutching her chest as an overwhelmed soldier helps her away.

There’s a small period of silence and what feels like years until a guard comes to get Angela. She’s alone now, wringing her hands together, the pounding of her heart growing deeper with every step towards the door. 

With a deep breath she takes a step into the dark lit room, the door slamming behind her with two guards remaining on the inside.

The sight is something out of a James Bond film. Sat in the center of the very dark room was a large glass cage with a few meticulously poked holes, only big enough for one person. There kneeled Rachel, in a bright orange jump suit, hands cuffed together.

The only light that pervaded the dim room was one large beam above the glass cage.

One chair was sat in front of the glass where Rachel faced. Large bruises covered her arms and some of her neck that Angela could see from her suit. Her hair was let down and flowed over her shoulders in sad waves, unkept and messy.

Angela had never seen her sister in such disarray…ever.

She sits silently, folding her hands in her lap and finally brings herself to make eye contact with her estranged sister. There are no words she could can give in this moment.

Rachel stares back at her, her eyes dead and detached from the present moment. This is not the sister she knows or will ever know. She doesn’t look helpless, it’s more of a rugged image, not defeated but just waiting for what’s to come.

Minutes pass and she’s sure they’re nearing the end of the fifteen still with no words exchanged between them.

So she does the only thing she can bring herself to do.

Angela presses her hand to the glass and her heart breaks when Rachel returns the gesture, unshed tears brimming in her lifeless eyes. 

 

—

 

_After Amelie became apart of her life Angela starts to measure things differently. Moments in their relationship, new things she learns about the sniper, time was no longer time it was Amelie. _

“You were thrown through a wall!”

Amelie is bristling, no, she’s livid. Every part of her body aches from her own injuries, sure there’s blood smeared over her neck but none of that matters what matters is the battered form of Angela laying on the small medical bay table, trying to reassure her that she’s okay.

That image alone overrules any pain possibly felt right now.

“Amelie—“

“You were thrown! Through a wall!”

“Just calm down-“

“A wall!”

“Amelie!”

The taller woman shuts up at Angela’s sudden snap, which is so foreign to the doctor everyone else in the bay pauses for a moment to look over at the couple.

It was the first mission they had been assigned to together. First and last if Amelie had anything to say about it. It was just four months into ‘officially’ dating, or whatever you wanted to call it, Amelie certainly did not like the term ‘dating’.

_“What a stupid thing to call it—how childish.”_

Okay, so to Angela they were dating but to Amelie the word was far too low on her intellectual level. They’d have to find something else but for now what matters is that some maniac had approved Ana's little test run and no less had approved Angela to be the guinea pig. 

The mission was easy, apparently. Just a search and destroy. Gabriel Reyes, international arms dealer and criminal at large. A usual suspect. The Ukrainian army had sold them intelligence on his base and needed Overwatch to finish the job. It wasn’t supposed to be a hard feat, in fact Dr. Amari thought it was so easy she insisted Angela be the one to test the suit she deemed as ‘valkyrie’.

Much to both Angela and Amelie’s dismay the older woman had insisted with her newly designed suit it would make Angela a quick and effective medic on the scene and it would also allow her research to come from hands on experience. In all honesty, it was just some bullshit excuse and instead of using herself as a test subject her other option was Angela ‘squishy’ Zielger.

The nickname had been earned only from the numerous times a distracted blonde had walked into walls while on her holopad, or tripped up the stairs in haste, or the amount of bruises that had been acquired from these incidents, although some were thanks to Amelie, but that part could be left out.

The wings on the valkyrie were still a work in progress, not enough to gain full flight but enough to propel her which was something she caught onto quickly in order to keep up with the rest of the team. Damn could they move fast.

All in all the mission had been as easy as described, they got in, got Reyes and were out just as quickly, not of course before having to take out a bunch of his cronies.

Angela had lingered behind purposefully, waiting for someone to need medical attention but Amelie, Hana, and Jack Morrison had the job in the bag. It wasn’t until Reyes’ men had caught wind of Angela that she found herself ducking bullets and explosions.

Fighting back wasn’t really a strength of hers so instead she had stuck behind Hana as the girl’s MEKA suit barreled through anyone in their way. Yet of course being Angela and having never been in the field as anything other than medical personnel, a fact that had been reiterated to Ana a dozen times, she didn’t noticed the incredibly large bulky man charging towards her over the sounds of fighting.

The initial shock of his large hands making contact with her suit wasn’t felt at first but before she could even blink an eye her entire body was being _catapulted_  through a cement wall.

Angela remembered the absolute disintegration of the cement as her body was rocket launched into it, as if on contact it just turned to dust. Then there was the wind leaving her lungs in a second and she was on the ground, coughing and hacking, her head dizzy and her eyes unable to focus.

There was a faint noise of Amelie over the comm letting out a strangled gasp, or maybe it was somewhat of a growl but before Angela could decide the familiar high pitched screech of her sniper engaging itself cut through the settling debris and the man hovering over her crumpled to the ground like a rag doll, a bullet straight between his eyes.

She had faded pretty quickly after that, a few warnings were sounding off in her ears from the suit’s emergency protocol, she couldn’t tell how much damage she had sustained but enough that the valkyrie’s wings were totaled and her helmet cracked.

“Amelie, you’re thrown through walls all the time, and that’s not even the worst of it! Don’t even get me started on how anxious I am when you return from missions…T-That one time a bridge collapsed and—“

Amelie shakes her head and puts a gentle hand on Angela’s shoulder, the only part of her body that wasn’t wrapped in healing pads.

“ _Non_ , it’s different, Ange, this is my job, this isn’t your job to do. I-“

She hesitates for a moment, her eyes casting down to look at the broken body of her girlfriend. The nanos were working their magic under all those bandages but the image was still harrowing and one she never wanted to see again.

“I should have been there to protect you.” Angela’s eyes soften and she takes Amelie’s and in her own, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“But you were there, you annihilated all those guys in a second! You did your job, but you can’t do it if you’re always worrying about me.” 

“I could have done more, hell you weren’t even supposed to be here! I’m swear, I'm going to have harsh words with Ana tomorrow...”

“You did everything you could, Amelie. I’m going to be fine, my nanos are doing the trick.”

Angela doesn’t receive an answer instead just a soft kiss to her forehead. Amelie was way too hard on herself, not in a regular soldier like way but in a way Angela had never seen before. She thought she knew what discipline was but everything paled in comparison to the Lacroix way.

Amelie moves to sit herself on the edge of the table, being careful of jostling Angela’s healing body. The smaller woman automatically lets her head rest on the other’s shoulder and releases a breath from her exhausted lungs as the other wraps her arm around her.

Whenever Amelie showed her protective nature over Angela it never failed to make her heart swell and her cheeks burn. She was truly so lucky to even have the privilege of seeing this side to the 'Widowmaker'. Everything about her on the outside screamed ice cold emotion, but Angela liked to think she knew Amelie at her core. Not entirely yet, but she was working away at it.

The exhaustion in both of them is very much present but Angela is relishing this moment, just being close to this being was such a gift and one that she never took for granted. Amelie had walls and walls to cover those walls, in just four months Angela would like to think she had broken down a few of them, or at least made a crack.

If you had brought up a scenario like this months ago where Amelie was holding Angela this close, the latter would have laughed at the impossibility of it, but the French woman never failed to surprise her.

“I love you.” The sentence comes out in one quick breath and Angela doesn’t realize what she’s said before she feels the body next to hers tense.

She pulls away quickly and tries to think of a way to backtrack, feeling like an absolute idiot because she’s sure this will scare Amelie away and everything they’ve built the last four months is about to come falling down but instead amber eyes find blue and Angela has never seen them look this way, this soft and gentle.

Amelie has a small smirk on her face and lowers her voice, regarding Angela with curiosity.

“Are you sure that isn’t your second concussion speaking?”

“No, no! I really do, I love you, I promise!” Well, so much for sounding less like a babbling idiot but instead of pulling away Amelie just finds this whole situation endearing and she raises an eyebrow at Angela’s sudden panic.

“I’m sorry, I…didn’t mean to, I mean I don’t—I just thought that—“

“I love you too, _mon ange_.”

Angela shuts her mouth and stares at her girlfriend as if she’s grown two heads but the other woman remains unfazed, tucking a runaway strand of blonde hair behind the doctor’s ear.

 

—

 

_ Thanks to Gabrielle’s car Amelie made it back home in record time and after parking the car off to the side so her parent’s didn’t see it she hurries inside to change into her pajamas and find a book she could pretend to be reading when her father inevitably comes to check on her.  _

The soft creak of the door as it shut behind her was the only noise that resonates in the main hall. She tries to reduce the vague clicking of her heels on the marble tiles as best she can but it’s futile at this point.

The faint taste of hard liquor still remained on her lips and she prayed to god her father wouldn’t be able to smell it on her but that man could sniff out anything a mile away.

Amelie’s midway up the stairwell when she hears a crash, her mother’s scream and another crash. Her reflexes snap in and she follows the noise towards her father’s study, knowing he keeps a rifle hidden in the bookshelf in the hall, just in case of emergency.

She silently hurries towards it and pulls out the book that triggers the shelf to release a box, picking up the rifle that’s in it and checking for bullets, pushes open the door to her father’s study a crack, peering inside.

The sight that greets her almost makes her drop the rifle, her throat seizes and all of her instincts suddenly leave her. She can see her mother on the ground, covering her face as blood drips from her face and the extent of her injury isn’t clear. Standing not far from her is their Omnic butler, Ivan, who horrifically is gripping her father by his scalp as he thrashes in the robotic grip.

She takes a deep breath and rams through the door and points the rifle directly at Ivan’s head. Amelie finally gets a good look at her mother who seems to have taken a blow to the face and she moves to help her but is stopped by a mechanical voice,

“Don’t move.”

Ivan is pointing a gun straight at her, Amelie recognizes it as the one her father keeps in his desk drawer.

She keeps her gun aimed at the AI but pauses her movements, her heart feels like it might pound its way out of her chest but she tries to remain calm and get a feel for her surroundings.

Books are are thrown and torn all over the ground, shelves are broken and her father’s desk and it’s contents are tipped over in what looks like hurricane aftermath. Now apparent on Anton’s face is a large cut and a forming black eye. The black tie attire her parents left in are now battered and torn in places.

"We came home to see if you were okay, and then out of nowhere Ivan struck.”

Confusion wracks every part of her body and she’s trying to put two and two together before Ivan does the job for her,

“I’ve waited for this moment…the moment I can finally destroy my oppressors. You humans are so easily manipulated. Like moths drawn to a flame.”

His machine-driven words drip down her spine like freezing cold water and Amelie is convinced she will never come to hear Omnics the same anymore, never look at them the same and certainly not see them as any type of equal.

“Wait! Ivan, you don’t want to do this...”

The entire sentence sounds cliche, and Amelie isn't used to reasoning for anything. This type of talk is the classic climax in every movie where the protagonist convinces the villain to turn a new leaf and do the right thing but this isn’t a movie, this is life, and right now their robot butler had gone rogue and was pointing a gun at her. In another world this may seem comedic, almost.

“Drop your gun, Amelie.”

She refuses, tightening her grip on the weapon, and even though Omnics don’t have facial expressions there’s something new and sinister in Ivan's robotic tone.

Ivan yanks Anton to his feet and presses the barrel of the gun to the man's head. Anton Lacroix has never appeared so helpless, so defeated. The man at some point was the one pointing guns and threatening people, now he was just a prisoner to an Omnic.

“Drop your gun, or I’ll shoot him and then all of you, it won't be hard.”

“Not if I shoot you first.” She holds her finger over the trigger and it’s just like all those hours her father made her train, there’s no hesitation.

“I wouldn’t be so naive, Amelie.” Ivan presses the gun harder into Anton’s temple and her mind searches for a weak spot on him. That’s what her father had taught her, even if there isn’t a clear shot apparent you can always find one if you look hard enough.

But Ivan is obscuring himself so well even a pathway to his head isn’t clear, Anton is just tall enough he shields the entirety of the robot.

“Drop your gun.” Ivan presses her with a nod of his metal head.

Amelie loosens her grip on the rifle and lowers it slightly, ready to drop it and accept her fate. Suddenly, Anton stops his struggle and sags a little, Amelie’s eyes going wide.

He looks straight into his daughter and sets his jaw firmly,

“Take the shot.”

He knows where there’s a clear shot, she knows it’s there and it suddenly dawns on her what her father is asking of her.

“Papa—“

“I said take the shot, Amelie!”

A tear spills down her cheek as she hesitates for the first time in her life whilst holding a gun, that realization doesn't set in with her just yet, but after this night Amelie vowed she would never come to hesitate like this again.

“I’m sorry, _ma petite fille,_ it shouldn’t be you.”

Amelie tries once more, tries to reason with the man who raised her to be the shooter she is today, it's sort of ironic that without Anton she wouldn't be a hundred percent positive she could make this shot.

“Papa, please…”

“Don’t you dare miss.” His words are final and she can’t do anything but accept them.

She nods and brings the barrel up in a split second, Ivan’s too slow to react as she pulls the trigger effortlessly, the bullet that fires itself out passes through the air and flies straight into her father's chest and doesn’t stop as it shatters through Ivan’s, effectively cutting his central wire and destroying his inner frame.

"NO!" Her mother lets out a strangled scream as she dives towards the collapsing body of her husband, blood staining her party dress and the mahogany floor beneath them. Ivan sputters a few slurred phrases as he buckles to the floor, sparks flying out of the large hole in his metal chest.

The world cuts itself out that Amelie can’t even hear her mother shouting things to her, she doesn't register the pain in her knees as she hits the ground, the rifle falling helplessly to the side. Her entire body feels empty as if all feeling has flooded from her, she feels like a black hole, void of anything and everything.

Anton's final words resonate deep in Amelie’s pounding head, _‘don’t you dare miss’_ and she hadn’t. She never would.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this entire chapter was all past moments but I promise the next one will come back to the present situation
> 
> xx


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